Sabaku
by UnpreparedForAnything
Summary: Trauma. An interesting concept, isn't it. It can and will ruin your day. Whether you get back up and keep on walking, well, that's up to you. OC. No pairings. AU.
1. Arc 1: Foundations Chapter 1

**A/N**

 **Most of this belongs to a guy called Masashi Kishimoto. He's not me by the way. The differences are many, so It's rather easy to tell. Only the OC's, some original moments and other original missions/scenes belong to me.**

 **"** Kazekage **" = speech**

 **'** Kazekage **' = thoughts**

 _kazekage_ **= emphasis**

 **"Kazekage" = Biju talk**

 **'Kazekage' = take a guess why don't you.**

 **Chapter 1: Prologue**

The Kazekage's office is silent. It's occupants, quiet.

"Rasa."

A man, looking dignified, dressed as he is in the Kazekage robes, turns his head to the speaker, piercing onyx eyes conveying nothing.

"I understand your pain, but with the economic situation…"

The Kazekage rockets to his feet, slamming his fists against the table, the burst of motion causing a breeze to blow through the room. The council starts. Some in shock. The civilian members in terror from the killing intent that the radiating from the Kazekage.

"Ebizō." He speaks, quietly, yet somehow his words spread through the room, commanding it to silence. "You. Will. Not. Seal. Shukaku. Into _my_ children, do you understand?" At this the elderly speaker leans back slightly and raises an eyebrow – the effect causing the their extremely long lengths to flutter against his cheeks.

The elder council member opens his mouth once more.

"There is no other choice Rasa. Shukaku's seal is unstable, it needs replacing. We need a weapon. Hence, we must seal Shukaku into a new host – a weapon that isn't already famous won't exactly rake in clients, will they? So, the host must be of your family, as an existing shinobi will die from the strain of the sealing."

Rasa's head dips, tousled, burnt copper hair shading his face. He grits his teeth. Golden dust particles coat him and then disperse. He disappears with them.

Ebizō sighs, his face clear of emotion or feeling. He rubs a hand down the side of his face, turning to look at the ceiling of the office.

"ANBU."

A group of masked and veiled men and women blurs into existence around the council.

"Trail him. It's for his own good. Go."

Just as quickly as they entered, the group is gone, the window silently opened, and a breeze filtering through the room.

* * *

(3 hours following)

Rasa steps into a lavishly furnished room, hidden in the depths of the Kazekage estate. He remains in the shadows, observing, watching.

A brown-haired woman - her hair so bleached of a brown it's almost grey, reaches down to the tops of her shoulders, no further. It frames a rounded face – is tending to two children. One is swaddled in cloth, whose brown hair and square face so similar to his own are the only visible things. The other child sits on the table in front of the woman, this one's blonde hair in four spiky ponytails. Rasa keeps watching, eyes softening with love. Those eyes drop to the woman's belly. It's rounded.

She's pregnant. Heavily so.

"- You'll have two new siblings soon Temari-chan! How exciting ne?" the blonde toddler giggles in reply, clapping her hands – 'so tiny…' – "So, I was considering names," the woman whispers, "and I want you to tell me which ones you like best okay?"

Rasa's fists and teeth clench again, eyes hardening slightly. He leaves as quickly as he entered.

"Hmm?" The woman pauses, her stare falling on the shadowed corner of the room. She sighs.

"Kaa-chan?"

"Aa, Temari-chan, gomen, let's continue, shall we?"

* * *

Chiyo walks into a on the south side of the village, its patrons drinking heavily, all shinobi. She navigates through the crowds to the counter, and slouches onto a stool, resting her head in a hand. Soon enough an employee makes their way to her – her sharp bug eyes stare them down.

"Get me a Bunpuku. In one of your retro glasses."

The employee staggers off, their eyes still on hers. A different one arrives at her stall a moment later, holding a small wine glass, containing an opaque blue fluid. Chiyo grabs the glass energetically, staggering off without uttering a single word of thanks. She loses herself within the crowds, taking a sip of her drink, grimacing at the ancient, highly bitter taste. She eventually finds, and leans against, the eastern wall. Reaching a hand up to her mouth, she takes a microchip from between her teeth. She lowers her hand, touching it against the wall. The chip sinks through solid sandstone.

A coat of chakra surrounds her, a fuinjutsu cast genjutsu hiding her from sight and notice.

She almost _collapses_ into the wall. It accepts her, swallowing her up, and she falls lightly onto the other side of it. She gets to her feet, dusting herself off, still holding the drink. She ascends the steps above her, the darkness above neverending, until she reaches another door. She pushes it open, and steps out onto a balcony dug deep into the walls of Sunagakure, the cool night breeze washing over her. It overlooks the village, giving a beautiful view.

She steps out beside another figure, both silhouetted against the view.

"Brother." She murmurs.

"Sister." Ebizō whispers in reply.

Both are silent. Chiyo flicks her wrist, the motion so fast that it's almost untraceable.

Her glass goes flying.

"I forgot how much I bloody hate those."

"That could be considered littering," Ebizō mocks. Chiyo shrugs in reply. His lips open further. "Karura is due in two weeks." Chiyo sighs, putting a wrinkled, liver spotted hand on the banister.

"So? All we have to do is move the sealing forward then. We know her current children aren't suitable – they don't have the capability of magnet release."

" Indeed. Get your puppets ready Chiyo. Rasa might resist."

"What you're suggesting comes dangerously close to treason, Brother dearest…"

"Rasa is a traitor himself! He's putting his own family before the village's wellbeing!" Ebizō snaps, then pauses, rubbing at his eyebrows. "Sorry, I lost myself a bit – again." Chiyo's hardened face doesn't soften. "Look. We need this - we cannot rely on other villages, on _Konoha_ ," he murmurs, venom dripping off his words. "To provide for our people and village, we need a client attraction. A powerful shinobi. A famous shinobi. What better than a Jinchuriki of the Kazekage's clan? You know Rasa will resist - he's a family man. If he does we should fight - It's for the greater good."

* * *

Karura, wife of the Kazekage, Rasa, is lying in a hospital bed, being prepped for an ultrasound by a med-nin. ANBU are hidden in the ceiling.

In another room, a medic is knocked out by a slouching, cloaked figure. They reach out to a red button in the wall…

A bell rings out in the reception area of the sunagakure shinobi hospital. The receptionist sends an intern away to fetch a superior.

The intern reaches the door of the uppermost hospital room. He slowly opens it – a kunai is held against his throat by a veiled and masked ANBU.

"Gomen, ANBU-sama, but Kiku-sama is desperately needed elsewhere! … please don't kill me…" the intern whimpers pathetically, sweat rolling down his face, vision darkening from the stress of the situation. The ANBU relaxes their hold, and the intern bolts out of the door, the med-nin trailing after him. The ANBU watches them depart, hand still on the door handle – they slowly close it, turning to Karura, their attitude almost familiar.

"Karura-sama, I will be handling your preparation from he-"

The ANBU falls forward, a senbon stabbed into their back. The door opens once more, and a short, figure shuffles inside, two puppets at their side, defining features covered by a blackened hood. Just as more ANBU fall from the ceiling, more senbon sticking from them.

The cloaked figure pulls down their hood.

Karura's eyes widen with recognition –

"Elder Chiyo-sama…"

As Chiyo begins pulls out a pot of ink, infusing her chakra within it, another cloaked figure bursts through the window.

"Chiyo, we have little time. They will realise something is amiss soon enough."

The gravelly, aged voice is instantly recognizable to Karura – both of the honoured siblings are in the room with her; and both of the honoured siblings are betraying her. Shocked as she is, she is silent. Until she shouts with surprise that is, for Chiyo's chakra strings have just latched onto her, forcing her arms down, and her body to lie flat.

"Lie still, _young_ one. This won't hurt a bit," Chiyo's ink stained palm approaches Karura. "It might, however, hurt a lot." They make contact.

Karura. _SCREAMS._

 _..._

 _"_ You just love clichés don't you?"

"Shut up Ebizō."

* * *

The scribbling of a pen is the only sound that fills the Kazekage's office this late at night. Meaningless paperwork sheet after meaningless paperwork sheet fills the completed tray. All is normal. All is typica-

A crack sounds, and Rasa's eyes widen. He stands, his pen dropping onto the floor. His mug tilts onto it's side, coffee spilling onto the desk, ruining his work. He starts breathing heavily, hands shaking. He throws himself through the windows, meeting the next roof with his feet and blurring in the direction of the hospital faster then the eyes can see.

There is a family photo on his desk, framed in glass. There is a crack right above his wife's face.

(A minute later)

Rasa crashes through a window, glass shards spilling to the ground in an almost silent room. The tinkling sound isn't nearly beautiful enough to stifle the gruesome sight that meets his eyes.

Karura. Spasming, gulping, gasping for air, froth spilling from her mouth, muscles clenching sporadically, unwittingly. Her eyes rolled back in her skull. Only the whites showing.

Chiyo's hand on her stomach, ink spilling from those wrinkled, scarred fingers, leaking onto _his_ wife, _his_ Karura…

He roars – a desperate, yet terrified sound – one no one has heard in a very long time. Golden dust grasps Ebizō, quickly covering up the left side of his face, digging into wrinkled skin. Blood begins dripping from the forming wounds, staining the gold crimson.

"Stop her! Stop her damn it!" Spittle flies from Rasa's mouth in his rage, as Ebizō groans in pain.

He laughs – Rasa's sand fluxes, a fresh wave of blood dripping down Ebizō's cloaked form. "She can't, She can't!" Ebizō states, hysterical. "Else all three will die, hah!"

Rasa's hand clenches – Ebizō stops laughing. "Not the answer I wanted. If you let them die Chiyo, I won't just be the left side of your brother's face that's… damaged… it'll be all of it. Every single pore, wrinkle, scar. _All_ of it."

Rasa taps one of the knocked out ANBU with an extended foot. Almost immediately, the ANBU bounds to their feet.

"Get me an iryō-nin. And some handcuffs while you're at it." The ANBU is all too happy to comply.

"Skip the handcuffs." Chiyo's higher voice speaks out. "I mean, isn't it nice that the puppet corps are so graciously watching your other two children today?"

Golden sand spreads further upon Ebizō's form. "That is treason, Chiyo..." the deep bass of Rasa's voice contains an underlying threat.

"What's treason, is when a Kazekage refuses to commit to a way of providing for the village. Besides, what's done," she lifts her hand from Karura, Ink sinking into her flesh, the seal completed. Among Karura's refreshed wails, Chiyo says this - "is done."

* * *

January 19th.

That was the day that two twins were born. Myself – and my brother, Gaara. We were booted into the world prematurely, yet according to my tou-san, this was an unfortunate necessity. Due to this, Karura, his wife… she died. You may think that him saying that this was a necessity was callous. It's not. He cares for her. _Cared_ for her. So much so that he named me after her favourite colour.

Shira is my name. White, in translation.

Apparently, white can mean purity, or innocence. It's strange, this name choice. No shinobi can successfully be innocent. We're effectively mercenaries who aid our village. Therefore, we… _eliminate_ some threats. This lack of innocence is especially true for me. I've seen my fair share of missions, some with my brother, some without – As a result, I've seen my fair share of _accidents_ shall we say. Especially when Gaara was a bit of a deranged psychopath as a direct result of our disastrously tragic past. Now I look back on it, It's kind of a wonder that he – _we,_ turned out as good people as we are. Why, you ask, is it a wonder Shira? You and Gaara are so nice...

Thanks. But, I'm not really sure you want to know. It's a bit… ambiguous at times. A tad gruesome. An average amount of confusion. A bloody _lot_ of violence.

You're sure? Well fine then. The first event… we were six, and…

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Question of the chapter:**

…

 **I don't really have anything to ask…**

…

 **Meh, I'll just have to be boring then.**

 **Favourite colour? Favourite book? Movie? Answer whichever.**

 **This is a bit shorter than I'd like, but that's because it's a prologue. They're generally short I've found, unless they're an origin story.**

 **Could a birth technically count as an origin story? It is where a person _originates_ from so...**

 **That's confused me for a while now.**


	2. Arc 1: Foundations Chapter 2

**A/N**

 **Shira's audio diary belongs to Masashi Kishimoto apparently. Even though it's meant to be hers. She bought it. How is not hers? I don't quite understand.**

Chapter 2: Instability

 _Audio Log #1_

Being young … It was hard. I was constantly underestimated for a multitude of reasons. Adults would mock me for being much less powerful, in their eyes, than my twin brother – who is not older than me, no matter what he says, and other kids, they would laugh when I offered to join in on their games. My short stature did me zero favours there. Afterwards, they would run. For wherever I went…

Gaara was never too far behind me.

I was the only one he felt a connection with – it almost bordered on obsession at certain points. I was the closest living family he had, discounting Temari and Kankurō, who were _never_ there for either of us. It was almost as if I gave him some sort of relief. From what, he never told me. Now, I assume it was the Ichibi, Shukaku, whose voice I never really heard when I was young, thus I can't really relate. Anyway, Gaara was always calmer around me. Happier. He had more attention from the village however, yet I was often ignored. I resented him slightly for that, I'll admit, but the distance between us never grew – he's my twin, and I'm his. That'll never change. Wait, actually… Our relationship did change, when we were six.

Our relationship has always been changed since Yashamaru.

He was supposed to take care of us. Be the _good_ uncle. And, as Baki-sensei finally told me when I became a genin, Yashamaru was an ANBU – sent to contain us, to kill us if we got out of hand. Specifically, this was more focused on Gaara, as he showed more signs of having inherited Shukaku's chakra, although we both had biju chakra storage seals on our backs.

He did his obvious job well, at least for a while, teaching us, organizing meetings with our otou-san. Feeding us, protecting us – Gaara - from the general public. I'll admit, I'm not sure that he knew how to handle children, having given Gaara and I some slight shinobi training at the ripe age of four. Even through said fault, he was always… nice. He never lied to us about why our father couldn't take care of us specifically, why we were estranged from our siblings at birth. I was always grateful for that.

Until he stopped. Until I was certainly _not_ grateful.

 _("Not grateful? Not at all an understatement. Definitely_ not _"_

" _Shut it Kankur_ _ō_ _, I'm trying to record an audio diary. Don't interrupt, it ruins the tense ambiance."_

" _What tense ambiance? Don't you death stare me. Why are you doing something so girly anyway?"_

" _Hypocrite. That's my make-up on your face."_

" _W- It's war paint!"_

" _I've noticed my stuff going missing. Damn straight, run away, there's a good kitty.")_

-()-

April 23rd.

A key date. As I've mentioned previously, Gaara and I were six, but our mental state was more… mature, to a certain extent. Gaara, he was hurting, constantly, he had a need, a desire, to be near people, to try and integrate himself into their groups. I would attempt to help him of course, yet I was almost as much of a social pariah as he was a general pariah. I didn't help at all. We didn't understand anything. A lot of people underestimate how hard it is to understand things when you're six, because most of you have parents to do so for you.

We didn't have that. As mentioned, Yashamaru wasn't necessarily a good guardian, just a protective and nice one. So, we watched other kids frequently; to try and understand how we'd fit in with them. We hid sometimes – in dusty corners, sharp stones rubbing against my knees and sandals, tearing them up. Gaara never got hurt. His favourite area was near the markets – there were always others playing football/soccer **(A/N whichever you prefer… I am** _ **not**_ **getting into that damn debate.)** , it gave him opportunities to see how they worked, how they ticked. He kept watching, eyes slowly drying out due to endless staring. He thought he finally understood, on this specific date.

We never understood.

The kids had kicked the ball, hard, and it flew onto the top of a building. How they did that, I don't know, for unless they had chakra traini- Never mind, they'd probably have been going to the academy at that time. They did look a bit older than us, say 8 or 9? About Temari's age, and from the one time I saw her, these kids look about the same height.

I'm getting side-tracked.

So Gaara, he brought the ball down on a cushion of sand, picked it up and carried it to them, brushing the sand off, knowing they were afraid of it. It was a random act of kindness, aimed to win thanks and friendliness. A good strategy actually. Moves like that, they build trust within a civilian community quickly and effortlessly. Infiltration and espionage 101. It would have worked, but Gaara… he'd already, accidentally, hurt people before. When they came close to touching him, or they hurt his feelings, sand would reach out to them, crushing body parts, the groaning cracking noise of breaking bones relentless against spectator's ears… That sort of thing gave him a reputation of sorts, yet ironically enough, now we know the truth, that rep was why these events kept happening. People were too afraid to treat us kindly, so we lashed out frequently – I don't remember a single point where I was ever not moody. Other people were too simple to form this connection. At 6, I surprisingly wasn't. I could tell what was going to happen, so I just looked away. I'd been desensitized of it by that point – thought it was an everyday occurrence, even in other villages. So, what I'm saying is… Don't feel too badly about how I didn't step in okay? I knew no better.

In my mind's eye, voices. Gaara getting denied. Again. He starts crying 'why'. _Again._ Then there'd be sand, rushing forwards, grating against the sandstone paving, the sound like a waterfall (Imagine, I only knew what one sounded or looked like on that one mission to Taki… It was gorgeous). Cracking would follow. Bones. High pitched screams and wails of pain.

My surprise when those things didn't happen – let's just say that my jaw didn't close for a while. There was the tell-tale rush of sand, sure, there was definitely an _adult_ grunt of pain. But no screaming kids. So, like any curious child, my head snapped up, taking in the sight of good ol' uncle Yashamaru, bright crimson blood dripping from his arms. He'd blocked Gaara's attack. Must've taken some serious guts that. I've seen the effects these sand attacks have, caused some myself even.

Every time he did this, I'd get a disappointed look, one that I couldn't bear, even now, when It gets shot at me again, from some of my friends, my family – I hate it. I hated it. And the look Gaara would get? Regret. Sorrow. Nothing disappointed. It was another reason why my younger self held that little seed of resentment in her heart. They were always disappointed in me. Not Gaara. Me. Even when it was revealed that I'd inherited magnet release, sure otou-san was proud, but not Yashamaru-oji-san – he gave me that good old disappointment face. I remember the constant heartbreak. It's very, _vivid_.

Yashamaru took Gaara's hand. They started walking in the direction of the house, Yashamaru beckoning me to follow like a damn pet tanuki. We got back. Sat down. I stared out the window. I miss that beautiful view. It's the only thing I miss about my childhood. My heart's too scarred up by all the other events to even think of missing anything else. The nights in Kaze no Kuni are beautiful. You can see whole constellations and galaxies – you could navigate the entire village by starlight it was so bright. It was a pain for most other citizens, hence the blackout curtains. But I loved them. Their beauty. Even now, there are little silver stars on the walls of my room, replicas of the only things I treasured from before.

Those stars are probably the only reason I remember that specific night. My mind had tried so desperately to repress it. But the stars were so bright and beautiful. I couldn't repress that.

Gaara had asked Yashamaru a question – whether his wounds hurt, or whether they didn't. Gaara didn't understand pain – he wanted to know it better, like everything he didn't understand – like everything else, I'm still not quite sure whether we do understand it. He'd also asked how it felt.

"A flesh wound is like an uncomfortable burning," Yashamaru-oji-san stated, "But it's easy to get by. It's easy to move past it. It'll heal with time and will do so even faster with bandages and ointment. A wound of the heart is different from a flesh wound. Unlike a flesh wound there are no ointments to heal it and sometimes, they never heal."

It was somewhat motivational to be honest with myself. My young self – he'd described what she felt, every single day. A stabbing, endless pain in the left side of the chest, piercing, burning, every single time she was in public, every time she watched other people interacting with each other in a way she'd never experienced. A way she desperately wanted. Every time she watched them caring for each other, holding hands… smiling, even. She held a desperate desire to feel those sensations, she – I, hold it still. To a lesser extent, having experienced the contact at least once by now.

I remember the aching I felt when Yashamaru said this. How both Gaara and I clasped our chests. He felt the pain too ya know. That's the first time that I felt some sort of true companionship with him. Once a seed is planted it can only grow when watered.

"A wound of the heart can only be healed by one thing; the love of another person. I love you both," no you didn't. You only _loved_ Gaara. "And I'm positive that your sand, Gaara, acts in your defence through your mother's will. My sister's will."

Now that was the sole time I ever felt hate. I hated the feeling, so I stopped myself from feeling it, killed that seed before it grew, but the idea, the _idea_ , that okaa-san favoured Gaara over myself, like every other _damn_ human being… Well, it hurt, as you'd expect. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to experience the feeling of someone being proud of _me_ for a change – I was naïve. That didn't happen until I proved myself to the populace years later – the lack of proactivity on my younger self's behalf certainly didn't help our dreams.

So, as I remember her now – I desperately want to change things. Instead of thinking that 'Gaara's licking off someone else's blood… _weird_.' I like to imagine myself running off to one of the soccer kids' houses and dropping of some bandages, I like to believe that I'm hearing high pitched whispers of gratitude – I would've done it to help their flesh wounds heal, as Yashamaru told us. Maybe then he'd have been proud of me, maybe then my childhood wouldn't have been as torturous. Instead, my twin did it – running off so happily, so hopefully. That reaction's understandable to me, even now.

Doesn't mean it wasn't stupid of him. Almost as stupid as believing that changing one bad action would change my future view of my childhood. I should have stopped him – that sort of hopefulness only leads to ruin of course, and yet, I didn't. My hands laid still. So, when Gaara returned, downtrodden, depressed – that look should _never_ be on a six-year old's face! (*whispers*But it was on ours. Both of ours.) – I tried to as Yashamaru would do, comfort him, stop him from attempting self-harm – we were really screwed up kids okay? – It wasn't for my twin's benefit. It was for my own. I'm sure you can guess for what reason by now. I don't exactly remember what I said, my speech blurred by both a six-year old memory and also by small speech issues – it was hard for me to link words together with proper fluidity. I was told it was a remnant of my premature birth. Gaara didn't have it. What I do remember is my joy… My ecstatic grin when I realised that this was an opportunity to impress – what can I say? Children are selfish. Most, anyway. What I said cheered Gaara up. For a moment at least. An aura of grim satisfaction seems to have been emanating from my younger self at that specific moment.

Then his sand defence fluxed. Kunai. Thrown at us by a veiled-nin, turban covering their hair, mask covering their face. Sunagakure hitae-ate on their forehead. My anger pulsed, the grim aura thickened, the feeling growing deadly. sparkling red liquid rose from the ground, moving with Gaara's sand to crush the nin against sandstone roofing. I remember it as blood – only later I realised that it wasn't. It was copper, ground into a fine dust, with the consistency of sand, yet each particle had the sharpness of a buzzsaw. Well, they have the sharpness now. Not beforehand. Tou-san hadn't taught me enough Jiton **(A/N magnet release, or magnet style, whichever you prefer. The literal translation is magnet release.)** chakra control exercises yet to be able to manipulate the dust to that extent. We both sat – stunned into silence – Gaara had killed before, if accidentally, yet he had never been attacked with the intent of assassination. Personally, I was in a state of disbelief – Yashamaru never liked it when Gaara hurt people, what would've been his reaction if he found out that _I_ had.

Apparently, it was an attempt to kill us both. Yashamaru's broken face (aimed at me?) under that veil is the last thing I _truly_ remember from that day.

Well, actually, no. When Gaara's sand protected us from Yashamaru's suicide bomb, when a new born beast roared from inside him – Something reacted in me. Something as painful as that one time the pedo snake's underling stabbed me. Afterwards, everything blurred together. Blood, dust. More roars. Shiny golden stars, strangely close to me – and to the giant Tanuki encompassing the sky.

Finally, the endless pain.

On that day, our paths split slightly, yet the distance between us, that grew closer.

 **OMAKE:**

Rasa sits at his desk, fading lines of blue connecting to his joints and muscles. These lines lead to a point in the shadows, connecting to the gnarled hand of an aged individual, whom is currently employing the use of a camouflage jutsu. Rasa stutters in staggered movement, his hand putting down his pen, seemingly of its own accord. His mouth opens.

And yet, he is silent. A whispered curse emanates from the corner of the room, multiple blue lines attaching themselves to Rasa's vocal chords before disappearing.

"Assistant, summon an ANBU. Preferably ANBU steel." His rough voice grates out smoothly, as if he is speaking of his own free will – he isn't.

"Hai, Kazekage-sama."

Rasa waits, a whistling breeze echoing through Sunagakure – there's no other sound besides. He pulses his chakra slightly, to break the chakra strings attached to him – they reattach immediately – the puppet master at his reins is evidently reasonably skilled. He can't use Jiton to attack them – their chakra strings seem to effectively act like the Hyūga's Jūken taijutsu style while they're attached – blocking his chakra pathways with foreign chakra.

He can't escape. So, he stops trying. One of the best ways to avoid a trap after all, is to spring it and get the hell out of there. He relaxes, tense muscles flattening, closes his eyes and waits. If the puppeteer wants to kill him, they could try to right now. If they want to wait for an ANBU, they ANBU will notice something – unless they're emotionally compromised, like Yashamaru.

Rasa's eyes snap open.

' _Kuso,_ Yashamaru's ANBU steel. Mendokusai…' The aforementioned ANBU slips into the room, movement only visible to the eyes of his fellow ninja. The chakra strings waver invisibly, manipulating Rasa's flesh. He coughs, struggling against the effects. The ANBU cocks their head. "Gaara and Shira… Are fai- *cough* failed experiments – end _them_ ' _no!'_. If you cannot – ruin… them." His voice is strained, a slight undertone of regret is prominent, even through the effects of the chakra strings. The ANBU's fists visibly clench, whitening, he then leaves. The puppeteer's control over Rasa wanes and collapses, he staggers supporting himself by putting his hands on his desk. He looks to the side, his hair limp, shadowing his eyes. "Damn you, _Chiyo_.". He goes the same way as the ANBU, yet much more violently – his glass window shatters as he blurs through it.

An aged woman watches on. "Can't damn me, you got no evidence I was here _b****_ "

-()-

Rasa sets a blistering pace across the roofs of Suna, crossing ten roofs per second – travelling in a straight line towards Yashamaru's house. His eyes, wide, face, pale. There's an almost haunted aura around him, as if he's experiencing something he never wants to experience again.

A loud crack splits the air, followed by an echoing, booming explosion – Fire and dust shoots into the sky from where Rasa's had his eyes on this entire time. He stops, mouth agape in horror. Until sand shoots up into the air, coalescing, blue/black marks forming all over it – the sand begins to take a shape. A giant Tanuki.

The _Ichibi_.

"Kankurō, Temari…" Rasa whispers – does he leave them with Baki, or go to them himself, and give them more protection, but also a bad luck charm?

'No. Baki's an elite Jōnin. They have enough protection. I must not risk limiting them by heading there myself.' His eyes refocus on the Bijū that's now destroying the village, and the collapsed red dot on its forehead – there is no grey to be seen.  
Rasa roars with hatred – he charges.

 **A/N**

 **A new chapter! Kinda! Does 3021 words constitute a new chapter?**

 **You know those questions I asked last chapter? Ignore 'em.**

 **Instead, we have – Character Trivia:**

 **(Not fun facts because these aren't necessarily fun, except for when they are. I mean, seriously, I'm not sure how to even have fun sometimes.**

 **Should probably get to the actual character-based trivia now)**

 _ **Yashamaru:**_

 **Wished Shira looked more like his sister. (*To Rasa* "She's got the hair colour, but It's just too curly – reminds me of you. May I remind you that I don't like you.")**

 _ **Shira:**_

 **Loves the colour black as an ironic statement against her naming. Wears it at every available opportunity.**

 **Thought she was disliked because of Gaara and lack of physical mass. Was actually disliked because she's seen as impractical for wearing black while in the desert (which she is), and because of Gaara. This is in the correct order.**

 **Loves sweetened Gizzard. When Gaara heard this, he cried. Whether it was due to happiness or sadness is unknown.**

 **Found out she had Jiton when she nicked Rasa's gold pouch on one of his weekly visits – stating she had an attraction to the gold, Rasa put Shira's hands into a hand seal, pushed chakra into her, and told her to pull on the gold with the energy she could feel. Yashamaru was disappointed in Shira because she stole, and also because this made her seem even more similar to Rasa. Even if she isn't/wasn't in appearance.**

 _ **Gaara:**_

 **Thought his twin was mute until she spoke in the above chapter. That's why he was happy, not because of anything she actually said.**

 _ **Rasa:**_

 **Unlike in the manga and the anime, Rasa was heavily traumatised by his wife's death. Because of that he only visited his children twice weekly, afraid that it was because of his existence that Karura died, and thus, if his children die, it'll also be because he was there. Bit stupid 'cause Karura was a one-off that was primarily a result of Ebiz** **ō** **and Chiyo. In this AU. In canon it was Rasa's fault. Who indirectly kills their own wife anyway?**

 **As a result, K &T were partially raised by a different guardian (*cough* Baki *cough*). When Rasa visited them he often aided in their shinobi training. When visiting G&S he was their Jiton tutor. **

_**Kankur**_ _ **ō**_ _ **& Temari:**_

 **Were aware that they have two other siblings due to Rasa – they were kept from seeing them by the girlfriend Baki had, and later broke up with, during their childhood. These two often snuck out to try and find their siblings as a result of these events. They weren't successful – probably because they were not allowed on the roofs – Gaara's night-time territory.**

 **Temari wanted a younger sister she could doll up – sort of like a live-action doll. Shira didn't take well to that when they met. Kankur** **ō** **just wanted everyone to be quiet.**

 **Trivia, end.**

 **Cya peoples. Hope u liked this.**


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